


Unlucky 8r8k

by doxian



Series: Homestuck Shipping World Cup 2014 [13]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Bets & Wagers, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Consent Issues, Dysfunctional Relationships, Egg Laying, Established Relationship, F/M, Homestuck Shipping World Cup 2014, Oviposition, Paralysis, Pheromones, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Stuffing, Uninformed Consent, Withdrawn Consent, biology made them do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-15 04:50:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2216457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doxian/pseuds/doxian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Wet already, huh?" You can <i>hear</i> her grin. You can tell exactly which grin it is by the cadence of her voice, too. "Wow, Ampora. Now I know why you didn't put up much of a fight when you lost our bet! You're <i>into this</i>. Smart move, not telling me about your kink, I'll give you that. I'm still counting this as a win for me since I won't have to carry the eggs once they're laid. That'll all be on you, sucker!" </p><p>"Oh my cod, would you <i>shut up</i> and do it already," you grumble, squirming around on the couch, not sure whether you're trying to get away from her fingers or get closer or get her to stick her ovipositor in you in place of her fingers or <i>what</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dojo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dojo/gifts).



> Fill for this br3 prompt: AU where trolls carry their eggs, but they can pick what partner is stuck bearing them. Eridan's partner dumps them on him because no freakin' way are they going to carry that burden (Seahorse parallels, woohoo!).
> 
> There's sex in this, but the consent warnings aren't for that - those are for the egg-laying.

\-- caligulasAquarium [ CA ] is no longer an idle troll! -- 

AG: FINALLY.   
AG: I've been w8ing for your sorry ass all night.  
AG: Let's go!  
CA: wwait just a glubbin second vvris   
CA: im not done yet   
AG: Uuuuuuuugh, are you serious????????  
AG: Hurry up!  
CA: this is a delicate operation  
CA: you cant rush genius   
CA: cod   
CA: are you tryin to distract me   
CA: is that what this is  
CA: a feeble attempt to ruin my incredibly detailed preparin and sink my dreadnought before its evven left the harbor  
CA: sounds like a fuckin sneaky and cowardly kinda fuckin plan to me  
AG: Eridan, please.   
AG: Don't insult me with your totally shitty and totally WRONG deductions.  
AG: If I HAD come up with a distraction, there's no way you'd 8e a8le to figure out what it was!   
AG: ::::::::)  
AG: But speaking of me sinking your dreadnought, which is o8viously the only possible outcome here, you do remember our 8et, right?   
CA: yes i remember the fuckin bet   
CA: im so ready to make you eat your wwords vvris you dont evven KNOWW  
CA: just as soon as im done here  
AG: Well HURRY UP, sucker!  
AG: You're going DOWN!!!!!!!!

\-- arachnidsGrip [ AG ] ceased trolling caligulasAquarium [ CA ] at 22:14 --

CA: wwell see about that

\-- caligulasAquarium [ CA ] ceased trolling arachnidsGrip [ AG ] at 22:14 --

 

\-- arachnidsGrip [ AG ] began trolling caligulasAquarium [ CA ] at 03:05 --

AG: Hahahahahahahaha!  
AG: What was that a8out making me eat my words again????????  
AG: You'll have to step it up from now on. Geez, what's the point of having a kismesis if I'm constantly swa88ing the deck with you?  
AG: Newsflash, loser: you're supposed to CHALLENGE me, not give me a free pass to let's-all-own-the-chumpy-seadweller-because-he's-a-huge-chump-ville! I already have other FLARP campaigns for that.   
AG: There, that's your generous advice for the day. 8etter gra8 it and run, you won't 8e getting any more hot quadrant tips from me!  
AG: Oh my god, are you even there? What are you doing???????? Don't tell me you're 8usy fondling your glo8es over your l8est spectacular defeat already.  
CA: fuckin hell  
CA: yes im here  
CA: its only been an hour since i sailed my burnin carcass of a ship back to dock sloww your roww  
CA: and thats a stupid name for a towwn  
AG: Pshhhhhhhh, like you even had anything resembling a ship left to sail back!  
AG: Anyway, I got so caught up in my well-earned victory, I completely forgot about why I messaged you in the first place!  
AG: You'll have to come over to my hive.  
CA: wwhat wwhy  
AG: I expl8ned it to you last time we spoke.  
AG: Have you really already forgotten???????? Wow, I know your pan's rotted 8ut I didn't think it was THIS 8ad!   
AG: Keep up, slowpoke, keep up! I'm not going to guide you by the nu8 every step of the way!  
CA: yeah yeah the egg thing i knoww  
CA: i just didnt expect youd be rarin to go already  
CA: dont i get any time to lick my coddamn wwounds  
AG: Whine, whine whine.   
AG: No. You don't. It has to 8e now.   
AG: You have one hour to get here, Orphaner Dualslore. 

\-- arachnidsGrip [ AG ] ceased trolling caligulasAquarium [ CA ] at 03:28 --


	2. Chapter 2

You end up bent over the arm of the lumpy blue couch in Vriska's recreationblock. Your trousers and briefs are around your ankles; you've lost all your clothes and accessories except your T-shirt and rings at this point. You have a perfect view of the stray dice and broken pieces of 8 ball scattered all over the piece of furniture or wedged in between couch cushions. You'd be bothered by the abject mess, but any irritation you could possibly be feeling about that is severely overshadowed by your uncomfortable awareness of the window beyond the couch - it directly faces that blueblood's hive, Zahhak, you think his name is, and there's no way of knowing if he can actually see any of this, but there's no way to ensure without a doubt that he _can't_ , either.

You jump when you feel Vriska trace the lips of your nook with her fingers, pointedly ignoring your bulge and the delicate, wispy fronds surrounding it - it's not like they've been coiling abortively against nothing ever since she got your pants down or anything. Goddamn withholding bulgetease landhag. 

"Wet already, huh?" You can _hear_ her grin. You can tell exactly which grin it is by the cadence of her voice, too. "Wow, Ampora. Now I know why you didn't put up much of a fight when you lost our bet! You're _into this_. Smart move, not telling me about your kink, I'll give you that. I'm still counting this as a win for me since I won't have to carry the eggs once they're laid. That'll all be on you, sucker!" 

"Oh my cod, would you _shut up_ and do it already," you grumble, squirming around on the couch, not sure whether you're trying to get away from her fingers or get closer or get her to stick her ovipositor in you in place of her fingers or _what_. "Not like your bulge wasn't filling out the front of your jeans as soon as you opened the door or anything. Bet you were diddling yourself at the thought of this as soon as I logged off, and you're calling _me_ kinky - _ow_ , fucking be careful with that thing - "

She cuts your tirade short by actually doing what you asked and pressing the blunt, tapered head of her ovipositor to your nook. You'd gotten what you wanted, but she'd cut you off mid-insult, so you're not quite sure who gets the point, there. You decide to give the both of you a point each. 

All thoughts of tracking points fly out of your thinkpan as she pushes the ovipositor in further. And further, and further. Both of you are quiet, now, Vriska's harsh pants the only noise filling the block. This unfamiliar organ you've never felt or seen before feels to be about as thick as her bulge, but instead of undulating inside you it's rigid and unyielding, pushing you open, almost rearranging the contours of your insides around it. You moan as it jostles your shameglobes, and again when its tip brushes what you know to be your seedflap - the end of your nook and the beginning to, well, organs you don't really think about as they constitute the least sexy part of sex. 

"Y-you good?" She says in response to the pathetic sounds you're making. Her voice sounds strained. "D-don't wuss out on me now..."

"I'm not... wussing out on anyone," you grunt with difficulty. "Keep goin'." 

She does. She takes a long, deep breath, breaches your seedflap, and in a more few seconds you can feel something _else_ entering you, just as hard and unyielding as her ovipositor. It comes to rest somewhere deep inside you, squatting its strange, solid mass there like a stone at the bottom of the sea. 

She keeps going, beginning to rock her hips slightly, gently, and you don't think it's helping the laying at all but it feels comfortable, familiar, like pailing. It makes you moan again and your bulge thrash some more - she still hasn't touched it, and you don't want to ask because you know she'll just deny you further. You pull a cushion towards yourself instead, shoving your face in it to try and muffle the noises you're making. 

By egg number four you're much less comfortable. Your abdomen is distending to make room for all the extra cargo it's carrying - and you wish you'd bothered to do more research into what came _after_ the laying - how much time would you have to carry this glubbing load around with you? Nights? Weeks? An entire perigee? 

You're beginning to panic. You're also so full that you think you might burst.

"Vriska," you gasp, "stop, I can't take anymore - "

"Stop?" she shouts, incredulous, and a little terrified, too, it sounds like. "Eridan, you have got to be joking, I can't _stop_ in the middle, not unless you want us both to get killed, which is what will happen if I lay the rest of these eggs on my carpet instead of in a host!" 

"Fuck," you say, eloquently, cursing yourself to the Handmaiden's thrall and back for not reading about this before. Hell, cursing _Vriska_ to the Handmaiden's thrall and back for not making sure you knew what you were getting into before you agreed to this. "Can't you just carry the rest?"

"No!" she shouts again, and she _definitely_ sounds scared now. "I just told you, once I've started it's like being on autopilot, I can't stop it..."

You almost scream in frustration and pain, but muffled into the cushion it just sounds like a horn honk. 

"C-come on, it'll be over soon, I promise, just a little longer. God dammit, Eridan, you told me you could handle this!" 

You stop responding. You'll argue with her about it later - right now you just want to get this over with. Your hate for her bubbles in your gut. On top of it all, you're starting to feel woozy. Your body feels like it's liquefying - a warm, gelatinous sensation spreading from your hips outwards to your thighs, belly, legs, thorax. 

The eggs keep coming. Vriska has a death grip on one of your hips, and you wonder if this is hurting her as much as it is you. Surprisingly, your bulge is still out and wriggling just as enthusiastically as it was when you'd first started. You want to touch yourself, but the gelatinous feeling has spread to your arms, and you only manage to move your right arm down to your side before you have to stop. 

Finally, it's all over. Eight eggs in all. Of glubbing course. Vriska's ovipositor exits your body and you're suddenly aware of her bulge coiling against your bare ass - she must have been holding it out of the way earlier, which means her bulge was probably out the entire time, as well. You'd just assumed she'd lost her wriggly and re-sheathed as soon as the sloppy makeouts had stopped and the gross egg laying had started, but apparently not. The knowledge sends a fresh wave of confusing arousal through you. 

"I can't move. Vriska, what the fuck," you mutter, exhausted. The pain in your abdomen has lessened to a dull ache, but you still feel like you've eaten at least five too many meals than you needed for the night. 

"Ph-pheromones," she answers. "Keeps the host pliant and helps reduce the pain of - Dammit, Eridan, you really _don't_ know anything about egg laying, do you? god, I don't know how I put up with you."

She takes her hand off your hip, to pull her jeans back up, you guess, and you somehow manage to raise your right hand quickly enough to grab her wrist.

"I need both hands to do my belt back up, jackass," she says, tiredly. 

"Don't you dare," you hiss. "Don't you _dare_ stuff me full of eggs and then _leave_ without pailing me. I've been close for the last glubbing hour."

"I don't owe you anything, Ampora," she says quietly. "But you asked for it, and no one can say I don't deliver." 

The slick, wet sound of her bulge curling into your sore nook is like music to your ears. The ridges on the underside of her bulge flick against your shameglobes, you cry out, she grabs you by the hips again and pulls your inert body closer, and you can almost ignore the heavy mass in your belly.


End file.
